Maybe This Time
by TwistedSky
Summary: Set post-4x05. Chuck and Blair come to an understanding in their typical way.


I disclaim. This has sexy times, so avoid it if you don't like that. I wrote this for a friend of mine because Chair is her OTP. She says the ending is slightly unrealistic, but that's just because I love fluff. Enjoy!

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Blair misses Chuck—but she pretends she doesn't. When he asks her whether or not the reason she chased Eva away is because she loves him, she lies.

He declares war—and she isn't sure how to feel. She thinks she can win—but inside her heart hurts. She can't keep doing this. But Blair Waldorf is not weak and she does not surrender, especially not to Chuck Bass.

So she misses him, and it continues on.

They skirmish, and sometimes she isn't sure who is winning anymore. Maybe they're both losing. Maybe it's not worth it to her to keep pretending she doesn't love him—she even tells Serena that she no longer loves him. She keeps lying and lying—and hoping she'll begin to believe her own lies. Everyone else does, but she just _can't_.

One day she's sitting on a surprisingly comfortable and very expensive chair when Chuck walks in. She smirks. He came because of their latest battle—she's winning this.

She'd managed to get her hands on a piece of property that he'd had his eye on and she wanted to see him beg for it. He won't, of course. He's Chuck Bass. But it would be fun to barter with him—she missed him so much that she'd take his hatred over his disinterest any day.

"Blair, Blair. How did you do it?" Chuck leaned against the doorway to the room she was in and met her gaze.

She smirks. "I have my ways."

He stands up straight and walks confidently towards her, leaning towards her as if he's going to kiss her—but then he turns his head and whispers into her ear, "I want it, and I will take it from you by any means necessary."

She feels her smile falter, "It's mine. What will I get in return?" She struggles to stay strong and not whisper her words. She needs to be confident, but she really just wants to melt. Ever since the night years ago that she'd lost her virginity to him she hasn't been able to resist him. She wonders if he'll ever stop affecting her this way.

He's still close, and she can practically feel him breathing on her—his breath tickles her ear and it just makes her feel warm. She tries to avoid his face to the side of her and looks forward. She can't meet his eyes.

He moves slightly so that their gazes meet and she has to lose this small battle in order to stop looking at him.

"Charles, you're in my personal space. Move," she demands.

"It never bothered you before," he murmurs.

He steps back though and a dark smile curves his lips. She stands up and moves toward the door, "You can see yourself out."

She gets so close, she almost escapes, but then he grabs her arm and shoves her against the wall next to the doorway. "What are you—" He cuts her off with a dark gaze. She tries to look anywhere other than his eyes, which means her eyes go directly to his lips.

God, she misses him. She misses his taste and his lips and she—she cuts off that train of thought because she's getting horny.

She starts to breathe a little more heavily.

He notices and smirks. He starts to pull away but then for some inexplicable reason they get closer instead of further away.

Neither one of them would admit to it—but they both break simultaneously. Later they might worry about what it means—about who lost. But for now they kiss.

Chuck pushes up against Blair—she's sandwiched between him and a wall. His lips press against hers and she gives just as much as she gets.

She moans into his mouth when she feels his erection push up against her, though there's way too much clothing between them.

They both realize this at the same time, and Blair tries to get his suit jacket off while he starts to kiss her neck—scattering burning sensations all along it wherever his lips meet her skin. She rips his jacket slightly, but neither one of them cares.

He gets her overcoat off and starts to go at the zipper at the back of her dress. As his hands dexterously unzip her dress she feels slight brushes on her skin. Her skin is burning hot and feels way too sensitive.

As he pulls her dress down she steps out of it with ease and steps forward. She realizes that all she's wearing are her bra and panties—luckily her favorites—and he still has a shirt and pants on.

If this is a struggle for power—and it is—he needs to get a lot more naked really fast, she realizes.

She shoves back and pushes him into the chair that she had vacated earlier. She quickly disposes of her shirt and starts on his pants, pulling them off of him quickly.

They're even.

She smirks as she sits on his lap facing him, her hand starts to drift towards his cock when his hand covers hers. She looks up and meets his eyes. This is just another battle.

She pulls his cock out and strokes it—noticing happily that it's already hard and pulsing.

She feels his hand literally rip away her panties so that he can cup her pussy. She desperately tries to hold in a moan but she fails. It doesn't matter because she's making him moan too.

He quickly slaps her pussy and she squeaks.

He puts a finger inside of her slit and she closes her eyes—almost drifting off. She starts to stroke him harder and kisses his lips.

He slides another finger inside of her and murmurs into her ear, "So wet and tight."

She understands what he means—she hasn't had sex in a while. She's horny and she needs him right now. He can make her come. _Now_.

She wants to make him come first—to prove that she can affect him more than he affects her. She's pretty sure it's not true, but she's desperately trying to prove it.

He wets his fingers inside of her pussy and shifts them upwards to her clit. He pinches it. She gasps.

He moans—she's assiduously applying her hands to his cock. Rubbing, massaging, it's so hard and ready to explode.

She feels him start to massage her clit, rubbing and rubbing and . . . she gasps.

She fights the urge to call his name. She meets his eyes and realizes that this is just another sexual game. In the end one of them isn't going to be happy even if though they've won. She doesn't want to have to finish herself off if she makes him come first—and she knows he won't do it. And he knows she won't help him. In mere seconds they both come to the same conclusion.

This is a turning point, and they both know it. This is a compromise. But they don't think about it because they have more important things to worry about.

He stops rubbing her clit at about the same time she decides to stop stroking his cock, though her hand is still holding it. His hand is still cupping her pussy and his thumb is still directly on top of her pulsating, swollen clit.

They sit there for a moment—him leaning back in the chair and her legs gripping his thighs and the chair itself. They stare into each other's eyes for a moment.

They both make a move at the same time—she guides his cock inside of her and his hand moves up so that he can start stroking her again.

Her head goes back as she rides him _hard_. He's feverishly stroking her clit and she's so close to coming. She feels sparks and everything just _tingles_. She starts to grind in circles around his cock then she takes a breath before taking _all_ of him inside of her.

She rocks and rides, he groans and rubs her clit with his thumb.

They both orgasm at the same time—her clenching pussy squeezes his cock and he starts to spurt his seed into her.

She keeps riding until he's done, and he keeps rubbing and she comes again.

Eventually they stop and everything is still—and she's lying against his chest in the chair, and she's afraid to pull away. She's afraid to meet his eyes—because she didn't think this would happen. She didn't want this to happen because it just makes it harder to not be with him.

He's still inside of her as he whispers, "I miss you."

Her heart starts to pound. She can't say anything. He sighs thinking she doesn't miss him—that she just misses the sex.

His hands grab her buttocks and he lifts her off of him and she stands, completely naked, in front of him. He starts to grab for his clothes. She stops him by placing her hand over his. "I miss you too."

He looks up, with hope in his eyes, "Blair, I—"

She places a finger over his lips. "I love you too."

He doesn't know what to say because he can't believe she's said it. She removes her finger and stares at him, seemingly vulnerable. "I love you," he says.

"I know." She does—she's the one who can't forgive.

"We can't—"

Blair closes her eyes so that her tears don't escape. "Chuck, it doesn't matter."

"What if we just . . . start over?" He's hopeful.

Blair looks down between them. "It's kind of hard to do that." She sees his face drop. "But maybe we can try again."

He smiles—the first _real_ smile he's smiled since he lost Blair. Eva was kind and lovely and she had tried to make him happy—but no one would ever compare to Blair and his love for her.

She smiles back, because she feels the same. She will love Chuck Bass until the day she dies. She may as well be with him until that happens, right?

Maybe they're dark and twisty and they bring out the worst in each other—but maybe they can reverse that together. Maybe they can become better _for_ each other.

Even if they can't, they need to try again.

You see, they love in the gray area—a place where most can't. They love and need and dream and bitch.

They belong together—even if it means they'll end up destroying each other.

This time, however, they _are_ wiser and smarter. Maybe this time things will work out.

And even if they don't—they _did _just have amazing chair sex.

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I wasn't sure if this is too sexy for this website. My friend said it isn't, so I posted it. Review?


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